Monday, August 25, 2008

The Council had only one idea as to the source of the evil harming our lands. Some twenty-five or thirty cycles ago (forgive my inaccuracy, such a short time period means little to a young elven woman who has seen the birch leaves fall 200 times), our grove was visited by the strangest druid I had ever met. At least she claimed she was a druid. She was an old woman, but by the way she forced her way into our midst, it was apparent that her appearance belied her age. She vehemently insisted to see our High Council, intermittently yelling incoherently and babbling about some new Power found in Nature and some prophecy about a man chosen to wield it. Druids tend to be an eccentric lot, choosing to align themselves with the fickle forces of Nature more often than humanoids, so this was not entirely out of the marshes, but the experience was stranger than most. The High Council, of course, dismissed the woman as quickly as she had come. Before she left, she struck a pentagram into the forest floor with her staff and uttered a vague curse about being left without the very force that sustained us. She then took her Natural form, which happened to be, oddly, a moose, and galloped off as if a High Druid had evoked a lightning storm above her. Those of us in the Order would not forget this woman, but the encounter was not treated with any measure of gravity. Now it appears that may have been a mistake. Whether this woman is the cause of the blight that has sickened our grove or merely a seer, she must have answers. My charge was to seek the terellor, while the task of seeking this woman was given to a druid of more seasons than I. Although if I can find any hints as to her whereabouts, it would certainly help in regaining good standing with the Council. I must keep my ears sharp as the wolf and my eyes sharp as the hawk, all while remaining patient as an oak. I am quickly realizing that this is no simple journey to have undertaken.